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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186433">Trust No One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSouhaite/pseuds/JeSouhaite'>JeSouhaite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mrs Goodman [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Better Call Saul (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Where's Kim in Breaking Bad?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:21:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeSouhaite/pseuds/JeSouhaite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have been going very well. He should have seen this coming.<br/>---<br/><span class="small">Last part of the Mrs Goodman series where we've gone AU after 508.</span></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman &amp; Kim Wexler, Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mrs Goodman [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It's All Good, Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>1st November 2010</h4><p>Gene - that was who he was, an unassuming man with an unassuming name - hastily wrote up a message on a Cinabon napkin.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He then handed a paper bag to his customer: a short, portly biker with tears tattooed under one of his eyes.</p><p>That night, after closing up, Gene--<em>Jimmy</em> sat in the deserted parking lot of the mall. He had never thought he would get here, ordering a man’s death. He felt sick.</p>
<h4>12th November 2008</h4><p>
  <em>It’s all good, man. It’s all good, man. It’s all good, man.</em>
</p><p>Saul Goodman got out of his Cadillac in front of his new office, this one in a strip mall looking gaudy with his name stickered on the windows letter-by-letter with the kerning all off, lady liberty full of hot air swaying in the wind on the roof and his new slogan <em>‘Better Call Saul’</em> in yet another font with a helpful arrow pointed at his door. The whole thing looked like an art project gone terribly wrong. It was a farce, a front, just like his whole life.</p><p>He had put on some weight, finding just a sliver of pleasure in eating and sometimes forgetting that he no longer had to cook or order for two. The wind caught his combover and mullet, both an attempt to hide and divert attention from his hair loss.</p>
<p>
  <em>Appearances.</em>
</p><p>His thumb reached to his pinky, caressing the faux gold ring. <em>"In times of pressure one tends to revert back to patterns they know, ones that helped them to survive before."</em> He heard Duncan’s voice echo in his head. The man was dead now, shot by one of his tweaking clients. The memory hit Jimmy square in the chest squeezing the air from his lungs with its force. He flinched, took one fortifying breath then put his game face back on and walked inside to put on the show for another day.</p><p>There was already a handful of people sitting inside. All new clients attracted by his new - rather aggressive - marketing campaign. Saul Goodman would fight with passion for every single one of them.</p><p>8pm found him still in his office going through a motion to compel. He completely forgot the date and when his phone buzzed he ignored it for a few minutes. When he did check it he was glad he was all alone. It was a text from an unknown number that simply read, <em>Happy birthday, Jimmy.</em></p><p>His hand holding the phone shook, then he realised his whole body was trembling. He stared at those three words until his vision blurred. His chest was on fire as his throat closed up on a lump. For the next five minutes he let out all the tension by sobbing right there in the middle of the giant, ridiculous reminder of what his life had become.</p><p>Exhausted and raw, he considered calling the number, the need to hear her voice a physical ache that was the only reminder that he might still had a heart left despite his chest feeling hollow every day. Then he thought better of it and started typing an answer instead. By the time he found the strength to hit send days later the text went undelivered.</p><p>For a fleeting moment Jimmy thought he could finally empathise fully with his late brother. He finally understood what could drive a man to lock himself in his house in voluntary self-isolation. Because Jimmy might have been going out to work but he felt locked inside his own body, hiding from the pain, shielded by Saul Goodman.</p><p>
  <em>Nine months. It had been nine months since the worst day of his life.</em>
</p>
<h4>13th February 2010</h4><p>Kim walked back in the kitchen, her steps stilted, her brain whizzing wildly trying and failing to see another ending to what was to come.</p><p>Jimmy was happily humming to himself as he cooked. There was a tiny, home-made, heart-shaped chocolate cake cooling on the counter. She tried to cherish this moment, seeing him swaying around, blissfully unaware, in the home they’ve made together. This was how she wanted to remember him: carefree and happy.</p><p>His name left her lips on a heavy sigh, “Jimmy...”</p><p>He turned around with a grin that slowly faded away as he registered her ashen face. “Kim, what’s wrong?”</p><p>He closed the distance between them and when she still did not speak he looked down at the stack of papers in her hand. The first page’s heading read ‘Petition for Dissolution of Marriage’. “Okay, this isn’t funny.”</p><p>“A sicario's just crossed the border at El Paso.” Her tone was completely detached as she told him the facts. “He’d been sent to clean up Nacho Varga. I’m probably next. I’ll need to be long gone by then. Xavier and the boys are coming to extract me within two hours.” <em>Two hours.</em> All they had left was two hours. After sixteen years it seemed like nothing at all and yet it had to be everything.</p><p>“No.” His brain screamed in protest, scrambling, confused and devastated. <em>I? Me? Why not we and us?</em> “You? W--Why? Gone?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’ve fucked up.” That used to be his mantra. It coming from Kim just felt wrong. “Last year the cartel had Nacho’s dad murdered and the idiot came back for revenge. He called our office for help. You weren’t in. He wanted a deal with the DEA but his evidence wasn’t solid or up-to-date. So, we--we’ve started our own investigation. I just...I got in way too deep.”</p><p>His whole world was crumbling down in front of his eyes and he was powerless to stop it. They were supposed to have this week off, just the two of them. And then Ernie was coming over next week for a BBQ. Kim was looking forward to firing up the smoker again. <em>This was his fucking fault. Nacho Varga would have been dead if he'd listened to Kim instead of Mike or his goddamned, stupid, soft heart.</em></p><p>“Just tell me what to do,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just say it. Please, Kim.”</p><p>“There’s nothing--- I need to leave.”</p><p>Finding a little strength he declared, “I’m going with you.”</p><p>“No. You can’t.”</p><p>His voice buckled as he asked, “Why?”</p><p>“You need to stay here. Keep an ear to the ground through our clients and an eye on Mike.” He was about to protest when she added, “Where I’m going-- you cannot come. I wish...But it’s too dangerous for you.”</p><p>She told him all about Mike and Gus. About how the latter was planning on taking over the South West from the Juarez Cartel. About the fight for distribution to the EU, routes going through Africa and how a handful of African nations paid good money to private contractors - chiefly her friend Xavier’s company - to nip the issue in the bud by sending them to South America. He finally learned Ignacio’s full story, how he’d made a move against the Salamancas, getting Tuco in jail with Mike’s help then going after Hector, making him land in a wheelchair. It was a mess, she was in way too deep and her plan to get out was dependant on way too many moving parts and things coming together.</p><p>“Lalo used to suspect you for being a rat. Now we think he knows it’s only Nacho. If by any chance he still sends someone after you, just tell them it was Nacho. He was the one.”</p><p>“Okay.” And Jimmy had no problem throwing the kid under the bus. He would have no issue throwing anyone under any bus from now on. If they were standing between him getting back to Kim they were as good as dead. Only he knew deep down that he could still not do it. Order the murder of someone, be directly responsible for a life lost. And that was exactly why Kim hadn’t trusted him with any of this before. He hated himself for it. For being weak.</p><p>“Dad’s taking the first flight tomorrow morning to come and help you. He’ll also be our contact. He’s going to tell you everything you’ll need to know.” Her careful, neutral expression cracked a bit before she added, “Jimmy, this...this could take years. I may not--”</p><p>She pushed the divorce paperwork towards him. “No! I cannot--I will not... Don’t ask me that.”</p><p>“Okay." She didn't push but hoped that one day he would get there. Make his peace with this and move on. Be happy again. "But you’ll need to take off your…” She motioned towards his wedding band. He could not wear that thing for his own safety. Jimmy glanced down at his ring and with a shaking hand he twisted it a few times to get it off.</p><p>“Take it with you.”</p><p>She nodded dumbly, held that thing in her hand tight, never wanting to let go. With a sigh she said, “I need to pack.”</p><p>“Wait!” He raised a hand, palms up, stopping her. “Just...We still have some time. Let’s have dinner first.”</p><p>His risotto - as always - tasted amazing and the small cake he baked for her special with much less butter and sugar was like heaven in a bite. This should have been a perfect day. Her best day ever. She was looking forward to the next few days spent with Jimmy. Just the two of them, lost in each other. Next week Ernie was supposed to come over to smoke a small pig. They'd been planning that for ages waiting for the weather to get a bit nicer.</p><p>Jimmy did his best to force a little normalcy back into their dinner. He brought up her 30th birthday and Kim tried, she tried so hard to remember the sweet memories but they were turning bitter with every bite.</p><p>Glancing down at her watch Kim sighed, “They should be here any minute. I need to---.”</p><p>“Do you trust them?”</p><p>“What did I teach you?”</p><p>“Trust no one.” <em>Except for you,</em> he thought and tried very hard not to let that creeping sense of betrayal taint whatever time they had left.</p><p>“Right now they’re my best chance at survival.”</p><p>Two SUVs pulled up in their driveway their headlights creeping through the windows, crawling over their floors, cutting into their last moments. Kim sprang up and made a beeline towards the bedroom leaving Jimmy behind sitting at the dining table in shock.</p><p>Four men entered the house holding semi-automatic rifles dressed in tactical gear with DEA patches on their fronts and backs. One of them went to look for Kim, two entered her office grabbing hard drives and boxes of documents marked DEA/MV and DEA/NV, the fourth joined Jimmy in the livingroom and with a heavy South African accent he spoke, “Sorry, bru, I need to turn off the lights.”</p><p>As the room turned pitch black Jimmy snapped out of his stupor and went straight to the bedroom. He took a fleeting look at their bed, the sheets still rustled from making love just a few hours ago. Kim - now fully dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt - stood by the small bench at the end of the bed putting away clothes in a gym bag with her face numb. The only indication of her real emotional state was the slight tremble of her hands.</p><p>He spotted his jumper laying on the bed, discarded. He picked it up, carefully folded it then extended it towards her. Kim's robotic movement stuffing things in the bag stilled as she looked down at the grey material. Her hand brushed his as she took it and dropped it in as well then zipped up the bag, her eyes glued to it.</p><p>Jimmy spoke in a low but firm voice, “We’ll see each other again.”</p><p>She snorted in amusement despite the situation. <em>Trust Jimmy to be an optimist even when everything was falling apart.</em> Their eyes meeting, determined, she nodded, desperately trying to believe.</p>
<p>
  <em>One last lie.</em>
</p><p>“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” She croaked.</p><p>“Do you know me at all?” Their smiles felt forced as if someone was pointing a gun to their heads and telling them to do it.</p><p>They walked to the entryway with Jimmy slightly trailing behind Kim. Each step closer to the door bringing them just that much closer to a life without the other. The two guys in front of them stopped at the front door, one of them glancing at Kim for input. Just as she turned to say her final goodbye Jimmy practically yanked her back into his arms and held her so tight she had trouble breathing but she wasn't about to complain, instead, burrowed herself deeper and deeper into his embrace clinging to him just as desperately. A last glimpse of safety, of stability, of home.</p><p>When the front door closed everything turned grey for Jimmy. It was as if someone just tore a huge chunk of him out of his chest. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart shattered into a million pieces, the shards slowly sinking into his stomach leaving behind thousands of tiny cuts until he could no longer stand, sliding down against the hallway wall sobbing uncontrollably. He fell asleep there, head against the console, his tears and his snot drying on his face. At one point during the night he awoke and stumbled to the cupboard with their hard liquor in a quest to drown the ache.</p><p>Kim’s dad Ian was a big, burly biker with a large heart and a soft spot for Jimmy. He turned up the next morning as promised and found his son-in-law on the couch still in nothing but his boxers. The large man easily picked him up and took him to the bathroom to have him shower.</p><p>Once Jimmy looked a bit more alive and managed to get dressed, Ian spoke, “I’m sorry, son. I truly am. You two were so good together.” Kim’s dad glanced around seeing the open wardrobe stuffed with his daughter’s work clothes and heels. “Do you want me to take her stuff?”</p><p>“No. I think I’ll move,” Jimmy spoke with a hushed, flat tone.</p><p>“Good idea...Wanna sell the place or---?”</p><p>“I can’t... Not yet.”</p><p>“Alright. I’ll make sure it’s all taken care of.”</p><p>"The horses.”</p><p>“The horses too. Just pack up whatever you need for the next few days and then we can come back later to pick up the rest.”</p><p>Jimmy tried to be strong but some days he could hardly get out of the bed and when he did, he found himself crying at random times during the day. The law became the distraction he needed but between cases the silence was dangerous, it made his mind wander to dark places. So he hid in bathroom stalls, his office and the odd little rooms they used to share with Kim in the courthouse to let himself feel the pain.</p><p>Then one day he opened his wardrobe and his eyes wandered to his old shirts and suits and he saw colours again: yellow, green, blue. He remembered blue eyes, pink lips, blonde hair. He struggled to see colour now. And when everything around you was a shade of black the only way to fight back and push the darkness out was with some colours.</p><p>He put on a maroon suit with a bright yellow shirt, a horrible tie with red shapes crisscrossing it and felt like another man. <em>Saul Goodman.</em> And Saul Goodman did not cry because the wife left him. Saul’s wife betrayed him, lied to him, never trusted him.</p><p>Jimmy stood in front of the mirror and touched his pinky ring then pointed at the strange man staring back at him.</p><p>“Saul Goodman,” he practised trying on tones just like one would a suit. “Saul Goodman. Saul Goodman. It’s all good, man.”</p><p>
  <em>It’s all good, man. It’s all good, man. It’s all good, man.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>😢 Sorry. This had to happen. But if you are familiar with my work you know it’s all going to be good, man! 👉</p><p>So yeah, this is my take on the real birth of Saul Goodman. I’ve figured Saul and Hank probably meet occasionally and yet Hank only remarks on Saul’s commercials in December 2008. So those commercials must be fairly recent because they are a pretty low-hanging fruit for a good burn so Hank would use them the first opportunity he got. My conclusion: the downfall - including the aggressive advertising on telly and bus benches - had to be recent too.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. La Familia lo es todo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kim was lying in bed with the first rays of sun slowly crawling up on the sheets. Jimmy was still asleep, turned towards her with a hand resting on the bare skin of her waist, its weight and the warmth of it a familiar comfort.</p><p>She found herself staring, captivated by the lines of age breaking up her husband’s face. She had been a witness to how each formed and became more pronounced throughout the years.</p><p>His fingers twitched and soon she was looking at the faint blue of his eyes, bleary but already full of mischief as his lips curled into a smile, new lines forming on his face.</p><p>“I love you,” he said, his voice gruff from having just woken up.</p><p>She opened her mouth to answer, to tell him just how much she loved him, how much he meant to her but was horrified to find she couldn’t speak. She was choking on the words. Her tongue felt swollen, too large for her mouth.</p><p>Kim startled awake gasping for air, her arms flailing, reaching for her throat and mouth and finding both unharmed. Breathing heavily she rolled out of her small bed fully dressed in cargo pants, button up shirt and hiking boots. With unsure legs she took the walk to the nearby table. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to cherish the good parts of her dream as she gripped the handle of the jug and poured some water out to chug down. She wasn’t sure which were worse: these painful reminders of what she had lost or her nightmares where they were reunited only for him to tell her he had moved on.</p><p>With a mournful expression she looked around the small room that was her new ‘office’, her new life. The single window with permanently drawn in curtains, a table and two chairs, a laptop and the creakiest camping bed in history. In one of the corners a few sturdy boxes stood stacked up on top of each other. Neatly written labels in Kim’s handwriting announced the contents of all of them along with ISO country codes in their corners: two marked DE, one AR, the rest CL.</p><p>There was a strong knock on her flimsy door rattling it and her nerves. “Kom in!”</p><p>André - the team’s youngest member - pushed through with a cheerful, “Goeie middag!” Then noticing Kim’s dark mood he asked, “Nightmare again?”</p><p>“You could say that.”</p><p>He placed a comforting hand on Kim’s shoulder and was about to say something nice but instead scrunched up his nose.</p><p>“Eish! You really need a shower, antie.” He flicked Kim’s messy ponytail that she forgot to undo before falling asleep. “I can braid your hair afterwards.”</p><p>Kim chuckled, the man’s good mood reflected in his broad smile infecting her for a few brief moments. She glanced at her watch. “Are Cam and Kabelo on their way back?”</p><p>André hopped on the table and let his legs dangle in the air as he answered, “Ja. They’ve just crossed the border.”</p><p>“How many?”</p><p>“20-30 boxes and a laptop.” Kim rolled her eyes. She could already feel a headache beating its wardrums between her ears. “Man’s been busy.”</p><p>“Speaking of. How’s he doing?”</p><p>“Fine.” The uncharacteristically clipped answer made Kim narrow her eyes at the young man who immediately caved. “Tried to pull a fast one on Heinrich. Bru may have broken his leg.”</p><p>“Jesus, André, you’re meant to keep him alive.”</p><p>“Which is what we did. Normally, he’d have gotten shot for that move.” Kim was not pleased with the proud little look on André’s face and let him know about it by maintaining her glare. “Relax! Doc’s taken a look. He’ll be fine.” Getting uncomfortable under her scrutiny he quickly got to the original point of his visit. “Anyways, just came to give you this.”</p><p>He handed a brand new pay-as-you-go phone to her. This was phone number two, and SIM card number nine in just a few short months. She never got to keep them for long and sometimes had to go weeks without one. She looked at the shiny, silver flip-phone then back at their signals expert. He gave her a compassionate smile then with a final pat on her shoulder turned to leave.</p><p>“I’ll be in comms if you need that braid, antie.”</p><p>Etched in Kim’s brain were two numbers. One she longed to call and another she actually did to regain her perspective. She was still lost in this world having left it behind so many years ago, back when she was young, stupid and idealistic. It was much harder to get through the days now - in her forties -, to believe that she was doing the right thing. So she called her father for guidance.</p><p>She should have known the man was going to throw her a curveball. Ian Wexler was becoming a softie in his old age. Kim remembered him and Jimmy teasing her on her graduation day; the two men acted like old friends despite the fact that they had just met maybe an hour before.</p><p>“Call him, pumpkin,” her father softly implored her. They were nearing the end of their call and she hoped they could get through it without talking about the elephant in the room. “He’s miserable without you.”</p><p>“Dad...”</p><p>“You two could just move to Nebraska until this blows over.”</p><p>“And what if it never does?”</p><p>“Would it be so bad to live the rest of your lives out here?” A part of her screamed ‘no’. She wanted to be able to say: <em>fuck justice</em>. She yearned for a normal life; to just be able to grow old with Jimmy. <em>Because Jimmy mattered most, not justice.</em> But the part of her that believed that could never win.</p><p>“I don’t want to run.”</p><p>“So you’re not running now?” Kim did not react. Not verbally. Her jaw went very tense, teeth snapping together with force. Ian relented. “Just call him. He’s not going to move on, Kimmy. You giving him the silent treatment is making things worse and not better on the long run.”</p><p>“I’m not…” She really didn’t feel like having an argument. Mainly because she knew she would most likely lose. “His birthday’s coming up. I’ll get in touch then.”</p><p>A few days later Kim sat in her small room now even smaller thanks to the additional boxes stuffed in there stacked on top of each other crumbling a bit under the weight of all the paper they held within. All of them had neat labels fitting in Kim’s carefully constructed system.</p><p>She picked up her phone and stared at the clock on its display. 23:59. She wanted to call him. Just to hear his voice. Her hand unconsciously caressing the large golden ring hanging from her necklace.</p><p>But she saw no end to this. Not yet. Hope just led to more heartache. So she typed out a quick text with her heart in her throat then pushed the phone out of her reach to shift her focus back to her work.</p><p>In front of her, on the table, the life of Vicente Garrido Cortés was slowly unfolding. An indigent boy from the tiny village of Llimpo climbing up the ranks of the Dirección de Inteligencia Nacional - the Chilean secret police - impressing Generals. Augusto Pinochet’s Generals, the ones who were all convicted later for their involvement in The Caravan of Death.</p><p>The next few days Kim found herself nervously checking her phone whilst she pieced everything together. André assured her that her caller ID was not blocked then suggested simply calling ‘her man’, to which she only responded with a death glare. The day after he handed her a new SIM card.</p><p>Kim completely lost track of time after that, burying her mind in her work. When all was said and done it was clear that the crown jewel was the DINA personnel file complete with young Vicente’s photo. Seemingly the only image of him that survived after he was reborn as Gustavo Fring.</p><p>Xavier joined her in her room on their daily briefings and gave her the usual lowdown in the tone of an overworked service worker on their umpteenth consecutive shift, “We’ve gone through your questions. He’s not changing his story. He’d sent everything - including the DINA file - to ‘someone’ he trusts and they will go public end of the year.”</p><p>“Anything new in the transcript from today?” Kim asked. Xavier opened the latest interrogation’s document on his laptop and pushed it to Kim who first pressed ctrl+f and searched for the word ‘trust’, zeroing in on the answers to questions she was really interested in.</p><p>“I know this negotiator, he works for the African Union from time-to-time. We could bring him over---”</p><p>“No need. It’s time I talk to him.”</p><p>With a dozen sheets of paper in hand Kim walked through the small compound to the shipping container in the back. Heinrich and Cameron - the guards on duty - opened the heavy doors and she was suddenly hit with a huge wave of unbearably hot air. It was already 35ºC (95F) outside, inside the container possibly double that.</p><p>She walked in with Heinrich following behind her flicking on a mobile air conditioning unit.</p><p>“Look at that! Mrs Goodman!” Lalo Salamanca exclaimed in what sounded like a jolly tone but hid murderous intent between the words. A bead of sweat dropped from his left eyebrow onto the table he was leaning on with shackled hands tethered to the floor. “I somehow doubt you’re here to defend my human rights.”</p><p>Kim wordlessly sat down across him with the papers she brought placed in front of her. Printed on them were phone records with every instance of the same - and only - Mexican number highlighted in neon yellow. The few other numbers all had notes next to them denoting their owner. There were no question marks in sight. Reaching into her cargo pants she fished out a black Nokia bar phone and threw it on the top of the stack then leant back on her chair with legs crossed, staring the man down. Brown eyes held her gaze, unflinching as sweat continued to roll from his hairline down his face. The cold breeze of the AC was angled just so it hit Kim and Heinrich standing a few steps behind her, cooling their side of the container.</p><p>Excited by the familiar face Lalo rattled on. “I should have known you're working for Fring. I’ve always suspected your husband but figured the <em>roto</em> would not be caught dead with that clown of a lawyer.” </p><p>Kim’s eyes narrowed slightly. With a look of pity and measured voice she spoke. “You’ve done a pretty good job with your evidence gathering. Mind you, four years is an awfully long time. But then you were doing it alone. Which brings me to the issue of <em>trust</em>. You’ve used that word with my colleagues a few times and I wondered: who does Lalo Salamanca trust?”</p><p>She trailed off, using the silence against him. Sure enough he felt compelled to fill it.</p><p>“You know what Fring had done here, in his own country, to his own people. Do you really think he’s better than the cartel?” Kim was not giving him anything. Having gone completely numb the last few months definitely helped in maintaining a poker face whilst horrific images flashed in front of her eyes. “I suppose you’ll find out soon enough when he gets mad at you for fucking this up and decides to take it out on your husband. I hope it will be a quick execution for his sake but we know the Chicken Man might just play with him a little for fun like he used to with his prisoners in Villa Grimaldi.” When Kim didn’t even flinch Lalo changed gears, leaned further forward and lowered his voice so only Kim could hear him. “What about justice for the people he brutalised? Help me bring him down and I promise, you and your husband will be handsomely rewarded.” He leaned back, gave her a big grin and merrily asked, “So what do you say, Mrs Goodman?”</p><p>Kim let a silent second pass. Then another. The smile on Lalo’s face slipped slowly as he struggled to maintain the facade. She took pity on him and decided to lay her cards on the table, calling his bluff.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Kim mimicked his exact intonation from four years prior. She uncrossed her legs, leant forward with her forearms resting on the table. “What do you Salamancas keep saying? La Familia lo es todo? And yet the only family you ever call is your son.” She vaguely pointed at the stack of papers and the phone in front of her. “Mamá’s boy, isn’t he? He’s more Vuente than Salamanca.” Lalo went still, his face blank. “Oh and by the way, Tuco died the day before we’ve picked you up. It’s been a month and no one bothered to try and get in touch with you to let you know about it. I find it odd that they don't seem the least bit concerned that your family’s operation has no real leader right before you’re supposedly getting ready to take down Fring.” She leaned in even further, a devious smile on her lips. “Lalo Salamanca does not trust anyone... This was <em>your</em> operation. And the only one you’d trust to finish it would have been <em>you</em>.”</p><p>He sat speechless, trying to come up with a retort. Kim drummed her fingers on the table with a grin then pointed a finger gun at him. “Alright, well, not very nice knowing you, Mr Salamanca.”</p><p>She stood and the moment she turned her back on Lalo her smile disappeared. When Heinrich asked, “Sy kerk is uit?” she stiffly nodded.</p><p>Outside Kim asked Cameron for a cigarette and lighter, and whilst the Afrikaner went to help his teammate she walked further away from the container with hurried steps. She heard feet dragging over metal then the fine gravel of the courtyard and made sure to keep her back to everything. Her hands trembling it took her a few tries before the lighter properly sparked to life. The sound of a single gunshot cracked through the silent air shaking her to her core, reverberating in her chest. She took a large drag, held it down then let it out with a long exhale. Once she finished her smoke and stopped shaking she took her phone out and typed out a short message:</p><p>
  <em>Lalo’s dead.</em>
</p><p>She took the SIM from her phone and destroyed it by chopping it into pieces with her pocket knife.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dictionary for the curious:<br/>La Familia lo es todo - Family is everything<br/>Antie - An older female, authority figure / (South) African slang but I've heard South East Asians use it as well<br/>Bru - Term to refer to a good (male) friend/companion / South African slang<br/>Goeie middag - Good afternoon / Afrikaans<br/>Kom in - Come in / Afrikaans<br/>Roto - A derogatory term for Chileans used by South Americans<br/>Sy kerk is uit - His church is out <em>(lit.)</em>, idiom for 'It’s all over for him' / Afrikaans</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Talk Dirty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Busy people sometimes get busy over the phone. Contains 23% smut <span class="small">(yes, I've counted).</span></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>1998</h4><p>Ever since Kim had earned her bar card she had been fighting tooth and nail to prove herself at HHM. There were times when she sat in her tiny cubicle late at night, alone in the entire office - save for the cleaning staff - and longingly thought back to the mailroom and wondered if she had made a mistake. She had realised as a 1L that the whole fighting for justice, Atticus Fitch thing was unlikely to happen during her career. And not only because over 90% of cases settled outside court.</p><p>To add a whole new layer to her disillusionment Kim quickly learned from actual, non-fictional lawyers that the firm had more say in her eventual choice of speciality than her, so it was pointless to plan too much in that respect. What mattered was that she was an attorney now and if she put her head down and worked hard she would make partner in ten years. That was a nice, realistic goal to have.</p><p>In her dreams though, Kim was still first chair on that one big case, one that would make a difference in maybe not just one person’s life but many others’. She thought of elder law or environmental law, <em>human rights maybe</em>. Anywhere where she could make a wrong right again. <em>A dream, nothing more.</em></p><p>Stuck in the real world meant that as a junior associate Kim did what she was told, bouncing from family law to real estate and contracts barely getting any time in court, just chasing those elusive billable hours doing endless amounts of paperwork. What little free-time she had left she was obligated to spend by socialising with her peers in the name of networking. She hung out with more people as an attorney and yet felt more alone having meaningless small talk on a loop, feigning interest in golf and stock portfolios. She missed her mailroom boys and long discussions on how Die Hard was the best Christmas movie ever.</p><p>The Sunday night before she was to start upstairs Kim found herself on her couch with an empty pizza box and bottle of prosecco on the coffee table, and Jimmy McGill’s sad blue eyes periodically flitting from Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard on the TV screen to her.</p><p>He was happy and proud. He told her that a million times between her graduation, passing the bar and now. But there was always a little grief in there, hidden between the words, that he desperately tried to mask. And on this night Jimmy was having an especially hard time.
</p><p>“You’ve picked out your outfit for tomorrow?” he asked absent-mindedly and Kim nodded. Her eyes stayed glued to the TV screen as her head motioned towards her open bedroom door with her carefully prepared clothes hanging from it.
</p><p>Jimmy only recognised the white blouse. The pencil skirt and the high heels neatly lined up by the door were both something he had never seen her wear before. Now that she didn’t have to spend almost her whole day on her feet it seemed her wardrobe was changing as well. There it was again, that sinking feeling stabbing him in the chest. Jimmy exhaled a little too loud and heavy through his nose, revealing his dejection.</p><p>Abandoning the movie, Kim scooted up next to him, took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>“Hey. Nothing’s changed, Jimmy. I’m only going a floor up. We’ll still see each other probably every day. And we can still have lunch together and meet up in the parking garage for a quick smoke break.”</p><p>Jimmy desperately tried to believe her words. Kim would never lie to him. <em>Not intentionally.</em></p><p>For a moment he wanted to tell her about his plan to go to law school himself but he hadn’t even managed to get his undergrad credits yet and it wasn’t like academics were his strong suit so there was a possibility he would fail.</p><p>In the end Jimmy just nodded then wordlessly pulled Kim to him and held her tight, trying to hide his tears as Hepburn started singing Moon River. He clang to the idea just as fast, that this was not the end of their journey together.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker<br/>
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way</em>
</p><p>As Jimmy was leaving her flat that night he turned back from the door and asked, his voice breaking a little with uncertainty. “See you tomorrow?”</p><p>Kim smiled as she playfully shoved him outside, shaking her head.</p><p>They did not see each other the next day.</p><p>And whilst Jimmy did join her and her fellow lawyers for lunch a handful of times, he always felt out of place in their upstairs break room. Not to mention those lunches tended to devolve into discussions of the law.</p><p>Burt and Ernie made sure that he did all delivery on Kim’s floor to give him a chance to stop by her cubicle. But often she would have no time to chat so he would just give her a small friendly wave then wordlessly continue his route.</p><p>When months later she found Jimmy in the firm’s law library and he revealed that he took the LSAT and was applying to law school Kim was ecstatic.</p><p>Against all odds he made it. Despite no one in his family ever expecting him to, Jimmy McGill had not only graduated from college but actually managed to get a law degree. <em>From the University of American Samoa. But still...</em> The finish line was in reach now. He would only have to pass the bar and then they’d work on the same floor again, be on the same level. He could go with her to after work events to mingle and then take her home. To <em>their home.</em></p><p>Jimmy had this plan, on his first day as an attorney at HHM they would go out for lunch, just the two of them, in the small park behind the building, on the bench underneath the chitalpa tree that would be in full bloom by then.<br/>
<br/>
He would ask her out on a proper date: dinner and a movie. And not just hotdogs at the Dog House but dinner in a restaurant with tablecloths and napkins for your lap. And he would hold her hand, run his knuckles down her cheek and kiss her - outside, in public - no longer afraid of being seen by someone from HHM. He would wear a new suit he would have bought for his new fancy job; one that fit him nice just as she liked it. And he would tell her. Finally come out and say that he had loved her for years and wanted to love her for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t propose. Not because he didn’t want to. He would marry her in a heartbeat. But Kim didn’t want that. And after his second divorce and a Chicago Sunroof later, he had learned that marriage wasn’t a necessary part of a healthy, long-term relationship. They would have each other, ring or no ring. </p><p>Then Jimmy failed his first bar exam. And the second one. His dream started to fade away. But Kim never let him give up. She reminded him over and over again that it wasn’t just the likes of Chuck who could get barred. A few months before his third exam she kept sacrificing more and more of her time for him, trying to help him catch up and fill the large gaps his distance education left in his knowledge.</p><p>The night before the first day of the exam found Jimmy on his bed with books and notes strewn about him, his jeans unbuttoned and zipper down. He let out a frustrated growl as he tried to read and comprehend the same sentence for the fifth time to no avail. His eyes flicked to the remote on his nightstand. Throwing the book on Criminal Law aside he reached towards the remote, his hand changing course the last second to grab his phone instead, punching in a familiar number as he sat back. After only two rings a voice came through, bright and fresh, despite it being well past midnight.</p><p>“Kim Wexler.”</p><p>“Hey, gorgeous!” Jimmy cooed happily and Kim chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Watcha doin’?”</p><p>Voice weary, Kim answered, “Writing the brief for Jonson v Los Pollos.”</p><p>“Geez, still?”</p><p>With a frustrated huff Kim looked around her couch and coffee table covered in documents, highlighted yellow lines screaming for her attention. “More like again. Francis didn’t like my arguments. So I’m now reading his old briefs trying to find his ‘style’.”</p><p>“Sooo, no chance you could maybe come over,” Jimmy hedged hoping beyond hope.</p><p>“No, sorry.” She wanted to help him but she also believed he was ready. It was now just a question of confidence whether he passed or not. “Jimmy, you know your stuff. You’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Third time’s the charm, huh?” His doubt verbalised masquerading as humour. “Unless I pull a Vinny Gambini and go for six.”</p><p>“You’ll pass this time, I know it.”</p><p>Getting a massage for his ego wasn’t exactly the point of his call though. Problem was, he had no clue how to approach the real reason. “I’m going to ask you a huge favour. I...I really need to take my mind off this shit for a few minutes. I’ve tried watching some TV but somehow not even Magnum PI reruns are doing it for me right now.”</p><p>“Oh, wow. Well, I’m not sure I can provide you with a better distraction than that horrible moustache. <em>And</em> the hairy man cleavage,” she joked, open to having a little fun but Jimmy didn’t bite just rambled on.</p><p>“I’ve even gone for a walk. This place is even more depressing at night than during the day. Nothing works...I-ah-- Could you--could you please talk dirty to me?”</p><p>Kim snorted in amusement. That was some amazing build up to the punchline.</p><p>When Jimmy did not crack but stayed silent she realised he was not kidding and her chuckle died off abruptly with a surprised, “Oh.”</p><p>“It’s just--I’ve tried using my imagination but you keep bringing up Real Property just when things are becoming interesting---”</p><p>For some reason she found the thought that he imagined her instead of grabbing a magazine or putting on some tape strangely flattering. Next thing she knew, she was agreeing.</p><p>“Okay.” <em>Should she jump right into it? Or set the scene first?</em> Suddenly, doubt flood her mind. As a lawyer the last thing you want to be was unprepared. “I--I’ve never done this before.”</p><p>“What are you wearing?” That line should have been cheesy, it should have made Kim laugh but the way his voice got deep and gravely made her skin tingle from her ear to her chest.</p><p>“Uhm, pyjamas?”</p><p>“Royals?” Jimmy practically purred the question.</p><p>She pressed a hand to her cheek feeling it burn. “Is that your favourite?”</p><p>“Normally, yes, but right now it would probably just remind me of failure.”</p><p>“Oh wow,” Kim chuckled, unimpressed. She was grateful for that little tease. It made things feel familiar. “Remind me again when was the last time the Cubs won anything?”</p><p>As Jimmy admitted defeat Kim was still wrestling with a tinge of embarrassment and the discomfort from feeling unprepared for the task. With a deep breath she scolded herself. This was the man she regularly had sex with for years now. The only man in her life. And he needed this. And if she was honest, she could have done with a little release herself. “What about that summer dress I wore to Burt’s wedding? You’ve seemed to like it.”</p><p>Jimmy shuddered at the memory, his free hand travelling down to his boxers. “I was so tempted to just push you back inside when I was picking you up.”</p><p>“Really?” Kim asked, her tone flirty turning seductive as she admitted, “Because I was thinking about pulling you in.”</p><p>Kim closed her eyes, savouring the sound of his breathing becoming more shallow. She undid the tie on her pyjama bottoms.</p><p>“Bed or couch?” Jimmy rasped.</p><p>“The console table right by the door.”</p><p>“Wow.” It never failed to astound Jimmy how much Kim could desire him. <em>Him.</em> Of all people she chose him. <em>Why?</em></p><p>The words just flowed from her, low and soft. “You looked incredibly hot in that tux. I couldn’t wait to wrap my legs around you..." Closing her eyes she could see her next actions and put them into words. "To have you hold me as I bite your ear.”</p><p>Jimmy felt her sharp teeth gently biting down on his lobe, sending a wave of pleasure down his spine right to his groin. His hand tightened around himself as he bucked up. “Fuck, Kim. I want you so much.”</p><p>“Then have me.”</p><p>Jimmy heard her breath stutter as they both imagined him hiking up her skirt and entering her. The scene went on in his head, her moans coming from the other end of the line and straight into his right ear felt as if she was there with him, her head buried in his neck, hair tickling his cheek as he pressed his nose into her soft tresses. “God, you feel so good.”</p><p>Lost in her imagination, Kim could feel Jimmy’s warm, solid presence. His always wandering hands a source of pleasure with their soft caresses and firm grips. He always seemed to know just where and how to touch her.</p><p>They gradually picked up the pace with soft words of encouragement and pleasure escaping their lips from time-to-time. Finally, Kim groaned, “Don’t stop, Jimmy. I’m so close.”</p><p>To her surprise she came fast and hard. <em>Who knew phone sex could be this effective?</em> Her shouts quickly spurred Jimmy to completion as well.</p><p>Breaths slowly returned to normal as the haze of pleasure lifted from their minds. Kim smiled to herself and with an official voice said, “A mother, who was the owner in fee simple of Blackacre, validly executed and conveyed the land to her daughter via a quitclaim deed---”</p><p>They both dissolved into carefree laughter.</p><p>After a small, comfortable silence Kim spoke up again. “Do you want me to stick around with you a little longer? Go over a few questions, maybe?”</p><p>“Nawh, I’m good.” And he really was. “How about you? Wanna talk about that brief?”</p><p>“No. It’s fine. I’ll just talk to Francis about it tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Jimmy looked around himself then with a sigh concluded, “I think I’ll go to sleep.”</p><p>“Good luck, Jimmy!”</p><p>“Thanks, Kim...for everything.”</p><p>“Night!”</p><p>“G’Night!”</p><p>As they hung up everything was still the same, all the pressures were still there and yet they both felt lighter, as if a little weight had been lifted from their shoulders.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this is taking so long. Trying to wrap up BCS is just a nightmare that I keep inflicting on myself for some reason and then hate myself for it. And since my work has ramped up significantly the original plan to binge Breaking Bad had to be binned as well so now I try to avoid plotholes with just using the BB wiki. Fun! I swear, after this, I'll only do nice, fluffy one-shots 😬</p><p>Anyhow, we are nearly there. Thank you for reading so far!</p><p>Coming up next: 🎂📞🇩🇪🌽❤️⚖️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sweet Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>December 2008</h4><p>The first time Jimmy saw Mike again the old man gave him a pitying look and Jimmy swore if the ex-cop wasn’t that much older than him - and he wasn’t deathly afraid of him - he would have socked the man.</p><p>“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about your wife.” Jimmy’s thumb rubbed his ring finger but all he could feel was bare skin and raw pain.</p><p>With voice more hoarse, accent over exaggerated and the carefree, sleazy air of a strip mall lawyer Saul Goodman presented his deal.</p><p>“I have something your boss would be very interested in. A cook. More of a master chef really.” He changed it up a bit, adding with a flair emphasised with his hands moving wildly, “Guy’s the Anthony Bourdain of meth.” Mike was hesitant, running over options in his head. Saul pushed, unwilling to take ‘no’ for an answer. “I imagine with Lalo and Tuco gone things are heating up. If you want to corner the market you’d better have the best product. This guy’s stuff is 99% pure.”</p><p>The ex-cop took a few seconds to consider this new information then nodded. “I’ll set up a meet.”</p><p>“Wonderful!” Saul enthusiastically clapped his hands together like a cheesy game show host trying to make up for the lack of emotion from his contestant.</p><p>Suddenly Mike was almost in Saul’s face. “I know why you’re doing this. If you want to see your wife again, you’ll need to thread very lightly, do you understand?” Jimmy’s put on cheer evaporated as he nodded with a serious, slightly terrified look. It’s been years Mike was nice enough to let Nacho make a run for it, defying Fring’s orders. Things have definitely changed since then. “This thing doesn’t have a shortcut.”</p><p>As the Juarez Cartel imploded within the next seven months it turned out Walter White <em>was</em> a shortcut. A volatile, murderous, terrifying one that Jimmy often regretted ever taking. But it worked. The cartel - including Gus - was gone.</p><p>For a few days Jimmy was elated. <em>The days of Saul Goodman were numbered.</em> Soon Jimmy McGill would get to hold his wife again.</p><p>Step one was to ditch Walt. He immediately hit a wall there with the chemistry-teacher-turned-psycho threatening him, telling him that they were done when Walt said they were done. <em>Not good.</em></p><p>Step two was to coordinate with his father-in-law who quickly put a major damper on Jimmy’s remaining enthusiasm. Kim was also not done just yet. She was going after Madrigal. Now that the DEA was looking at the giant conglomerate as part of the investigation into Gus the Germans went on full defence mode including calling in favours from their ‘friends’ high up in the DOJ chain of command. She could not afford returning to the states and drawing attention to her work.</p><p>
  <em>Looked like Saul Goodman was not done just yet.</em>
</p><p>Utterly deflated Jimmy made one last attempt at stopping Walt at least, suggesting to him that he should quit whilst he was ahead. But Walt needed the money <em>and</em> the power that was there for the taking in the vacuum left behind by the cartel. <em>Not good indeed.</em></p><p>A little over three months and a lot of horrible events later Jimmy nervously paced up and down on the pavement near a payphone, his eyes bouncing to the alleyway a few feet away. Years ago, - when all this shit had started - he was thrown to the ground by a detective in there. His knees still screamed in pain remembering it.</p><p>
  <em>3.59pm</em>
</p><p>The phone rang and his whole world narrowed down to the black handset. With a shaking hand he lifted it from the cradle and raised it to his ear.</p><p>“Hey!” And it was Kim’s sweet, deep voice caressing his right ear. He had almost forgotten that sound by now. Her face only familiar from the few photos he treasured and hid from the world. “Happy birthday, Jimmy!”</p><p>It was as if a rubber band had been pulled and pulled in his chest the last 21 months. The band snapped and he broke down desperately gripping the phone booth’s hood to keep himself upright as he wept, his teardrops leaving tiny dark dots on the pavement below him.</p><p>“Hey, hey. It’s okay, Jimmy. It’s okay.” She tried to console him but was having a similarly hard time keeping it together. She sunk in the plush armchair in her hotel suite and looked out through the large windows onto Maschsee, trying to find peace in the artificial lake’s tranquil waters. Jimmy’s erratic breathing coming through from thousands of miles away brought tears of her own. She wanted to hold him so bad. Her hands felt empty and useless: one helplessly clutching her phone, the other disappearing into the grey fabric of his faded university jumper. As a sharp ache spread in her chest, nearly suffocating her, she thought that maybe this call wasn’t such a great idea after all. But the need to finally talk to him, to hear and feel the delightful scratch of his voice was so much stronger. Attempting to force a playful tone in her voice she croaked, “Hey, what are you wearing?”</p><p>That pushed him a bit off-balance. Enough to find the bright side in their situation, to ignore all the doom and gloom and focus on the here and now and cherish what they had instead of mourn for what they couldn’t.</p><p>He let out a breathless chuckle then looked down at his attire. His voice hoarse, sounded just barely there. “Red shirt with grey suit and the tie I got from Ernie for Christmas in ‘99.”</p><p>With a heavy sigh she asked, “‘s all good, man?” </p><p>“Yeah. Jimmy McGill--he just couldn’t... He’s too weak for this.”</p><p>The last two years she did her best to ignore the rebirth of Saul Goodman but even she could not avoid his ads. She understood the persona’s resurgence but that did not make it hurt any less. If anything it made the pain worse. <em>She did this to him. And for what?</em></p><p>“Jimmy,” she used that soft, admonishing tone with just a tinge of irritation. The one that meant she was not about to agree with him in the least. “You are one of the strongest people I know.”</p><p>“Wish I could believe you.” And just to prove his point he sniffled. His free hand wiped his tears in vain, fresh ones replaced them immediately.</p><p>“Hey. You did manage to bring down the entire Juarez Cartel in just a few months.” It was an innocent quip meant to bring a little levity into their call. And for a few, brief seconds it managed to do just that, making both of them smile. The truth behind it abruptly filled Kim with dread, wiping her smile. She softly admonished him, “Jesus, Jimmy, I told you not to do anything stupid and you get involved in the drug trade.”</p><p>“What?” He feigned total innocence. “I’ve wanted my wife back.”</p><p>The humour faded from her retort. “You’re playing with fire. You can easily get yourself killed. Especially now with Mike gone...”</p><p>Jimmy had always suspected Mike and Kim were in cahoots of some sort. Maybe they had a deal and maybe the old man honoured it because Jimmy had done the right thing with Nacho and somewhere behind that cold mask he still had a heart. Not much point in opening that can of worms now though. Instead, Jimmy tried to steer them back to light-hearted banter territory.</p><p>“No way. I’ve had a good teacher.”</p><p>“Jim--”</p><p>“Let’s not talk about this,” he pleaded, feeling his mood nosedive. He wanted to feel happy, connected, loved, to ignore the reality of his miserable life for just a little while.</p><p>“Yes, because that’s known to work.”</p><p>“You’d know,” he jabbed back and immediately stood straight with his eyes closed. He knew he wasn’t angry with her. All that bitterness, it merely stemmed from feeling utterly helpless, not in control of his life and most of all being profoundly lonely. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Kim wanted to claim she kept things from him to protect him but it was only a tiny part of the truth. Because there <em>was</em> another way she could have chosen: just tell Nacho to go pound sand and never get involved in all this mess, never pick a fight with the Cartel and especially not one with Madrigal. <em>Why couldn’t she just say no?</em></p><p>“Jimmy, you have every right to be angry. I should have told you...” She trailed off, not ready to admit to the real reason. She was still shielding her heart from the man who knew it better than she ever would. And he went on to prove just that.</p><p>“You didn’t want me to change your mind, did you?” It wasn’t really a question. They both knew he was right. If Jimmy would have found out about her little crusade against the cartel he would have talked her out of it. Because he was done with that life, he had found his happiness, the life he wanted with just the right - very low - amount of risks. And she would have given it all up for him. <em>For them.</em> But he never asked. Not even now.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“And let’s face it, I am still a soft touch.”</p><p>“You have such a beautiful, pure heart, Jimmy. I just...I never wanted it to be blackened by all this.” She remembered the graphic witness accounts from Chihuahua, the mutilated bodies hanging from overpasses in Juarez, the countless people who just vanished without a trace. That was the face of Don Eladio’s cartel south of the border. “There was no arresting and prosecuting the way out of this. Some people just had to die.” Lalo Salamanca’s enigmatic smile flashed up in her mind, making her shiver. “But once you cross that line... Living with the thought of being responsible for someone’s life ending, it’s...it’ll stay with you. Some people never manage to carry on with it... And with your history with Chuck and your dad...”</p><p>“Hey. You’re okay, right?”</p><p>“Yeah…Yeah, I’m alright.” And she was. Because at the end of the day they had changed a lot of lives for the better. <em>Too bad they had to sacrifice their own happiness for it.</em> “I want you to know that this was the hardest decision of my life. Losing you. It was--”</p><p><em>No, no, no, no.</em> “You haven’t lost me,” Jimmy affirmed, grasping at the chance to try and make her understand. “I’m still here. I'm still your husband.”</p><p>“Jimmy--”</p><p>“And I still love you <em>so much</em>, Kim.”</p><p>“Jimmy this isn't---”</p><p>“No. Just--don't. Don't even think about it. I love you, Kim,” his voice was much stronger now as if he was daring her to disagree, to tell him he couldn’t. To tell him she didn’t.</p><p>“I--” She stopped herself there. "Okay." This was his decision. <em>Now onto her own.</em> “I could have gone home. I should have. Instead, here I am chasing after another monster. Except this one is even larger, even more impossible--”</p><p>“Hey, you don’t have to--I understand.”</p><p>“That makes one of us.”</p><p>“Kim...”</p><p>“I never thought…” She trailed off, her voice buckling. She felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks but didn’t move to wipe them. “When I left Nebraska, I never imagined I’d want...that I could have the life we’ve made together…” The memories hit her, bursting through the walls around her heart. It was a muddle of images, emotions and sensations. That time he made her laugh so hard she thought she’d broken a rib; the momentous feeling akin to stepping off a cliff right before she’d kissed him the first time; gazing into his hopeful eyes at their wedding; her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her wedding ring; the smell of his cologne on the soft skin of his neck; the feeling of contentment humming through her brought on by just being in his arms. “We were perfect. We were just <em>perfect</em>. You made me so, incredibly happy...and loved. I should have been able to put you first.”</p><p>“Kim, Jesus, I’d never want you to do that.”</p><p>“But you deserve it.” <em>Wasn’t that what being married was about?</em></p><p>“No,” he vehemently disagreed. “No one does. Jesus, Kim, this was your dream. I wouldn’t want to live knowing I’ve held you back, that I’ve made you miserable.” Kim went silent mulling over his words as he carried on enthralled as he often was by her, “You know, ever since I’ve met you, I knew that you were destined for great things. You have this incredible drive. I was always so envious of you for knowing what you’ve wanted and getting it. I’ve never had that clarity... And to be honest, I’ve been expecting this the whole time I’ve known you. Well, not necessarily this. Maybe a huge federal case. Going after one of the giants like Monsanto or PG&amp;E. If anyone deserves their Atticus Fitch moment it’s you... But, you know, you’ll actually win at the end.” And he was right she did enjoy her work. Taking on and taking down something so much bigger than her was exhilarating and fulfilling in ways that representing their indigent clients never really was. <em>Or was it? Did she really want all this?</em> This was supposed to be her dream - her actual dream - since she was twelve. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Kim. You’re gonna have your own Wikipedia page.”</p><p>“I’ll probably never be able to talk about my involvement.” She never craved the whole press conferences part of the job. All she wanted was justice, to fight the good fight.</p><p>Enthusiasm a bit deflated Jimmy still looked on the bright side. “Well, in the end, what matters is that you’ll know.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“So. How is it? Being an international super lawyer. Should I be imagining Law &amp; Order: Mission Impossible?”</p><p>“Totally...Only much, much, much more boring. I’m mostly in the background connecting dots, driving discovery, consulting with other lawyers sometimes through yet another layer of lawyers or even lawyers <em>and</em> interpreters. It’s like a game of law telephone. All whilst I’m trying to make sense of all the different legal systems. I had to read up a lot on civil, customary, common and Muslim law and how they mix. It’s fascinating to see how different countries look at the law.”</p><p>“You say fascinating, I say, nightmare inducing.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with the details. Don’t want a repeat of Jimmy’s meltdown of ‘95.” He still shuddered at just the mention of that little incident, how a supposedly easy elective turned into a monster disguised as International Law. “Suffice it to say, it gets difficult.” And despite of that she sounded upbeat about the whole thing. “Cooperation from law enforcement is always iffy. Except for the Chileans, they were more than happy to accept our help. In exchange they’ve made me question my claim of fluent Spanish on my CV.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>“We have this great software. Got it from Interpol. It’s for mapping out a case so you don’t have to use walls and whiteboards. Makes it easier to share information globally. The sheer scale of it is...it’s huge. We’re at a 100yards of wall space at least by now,” Kim enthused and Jimmy couldn’t help letting out a fond little chuckle. “What?”</p><p>“Nothing.” With a grin still on his face he teased, “So, ‘enjoying working for the prosecution, huh?”</p><p>“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on switching sides once I’m back.”</p><p>That hit him hard. He was careful to avoid the subject so far but he couldn’t hold back anymore. “When--when’s that?”</p><p>Kim went awfully quiet, carefully choosing her words. “We are talking several independent local cases and one huge international one. This could take years--”</p><p>“It’s okay. I understand.” And whilst he had proven that he really did, the way he sounded utterly heartbroken filled Kim’s chest with pain and regret. “Just...keep me in the loop, okay?”</p><p>“I don’t want to make promises. But the next year is critical. Maybe after that. Once we start going public...” Best not to get their hopes up. Things were less than promising right then. Which brought to her mind the close call she had with the two CIA tails in India. The DOJ seemed to have started suspecting her involvement. “Jimmy, if they ever get to Walt, you need to run, okay? Don’t try and be clever. Don’t think that you can just deal your way out of it?”</p><p>“Okay,” he whispered, his throat too closed up to speak any louder. Before he could stop himself he chocked, “God, I miss you so much.”</p><p>“I miss you too,” she said with a watery chuckle. “I-- I think about you all the time.”</p><p>He sniffled a little, chuckling and asking in a suggestive tone. “Really?”</p><p>“Not like that.” She felt her ears go hot and grinned. “Okay, like that as well. But often I just think: what would Jimmy do?”</p><p>“That sounds dangerous.”</p><p>They chuckled in unison, sliding back into their old routine. With the tension gone they started chatting about anything and everything, raking their brains for moments they longed to share and discuss.</p><p>Jimmy went first. “I have another class action going.”</p><p>“The Wayfarer 515?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he hesitantly confirmed. <em>Had she seen his TV ads?</em> Suddenly the thought of Kim seeing Saul Goodman going full sleaze filled him with shame. It was one thing for him to come to terms with the man in the mirror but somehow Kim being a witness to it made him really uncomfortable.</p><p>“I’ve seen your ad on the Albuquerque Journal’s website.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>She knew that Wexler, McGill &amp; Associates was back to its original name. One lonely night she just couldn’t help going through court records to see what he had been up to, reading a few transcripts just to see his brilliance light up a court room again.</p><p>“How’s it going?”</p><p>“Well, the payout’s not gonna be as huge as Sandpiper so don’t just start thinking about buying a ranch, yet.” Just when she was starting to feel like she was talking to Saul Goodman, Jimmy popped up to say, “I did manage to get the airport to pay for the funerals.”</p><p>“Has everyone left the practice?”</p><p>“They didn’t really leave. I’ve pretty much had to force them out,” Jimmy recalled. “Heads up, they kinda hate you a bit.”</p><p>“Oh man, that’s going to be an awkward conversation.”</p><p>“And I’m so going to milk it,” he teased earning a derisive snort of amusement from her. “They’re all working at Dāna now so we still share cases often enough.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Dāna was Howard Hamlin’s new firm, one that he started after Jimmy - pissed about the whole Sandpiper settlement bungle - read up on Buddhism and threw his hypocrisy in the older man’s face, calling his path to ‘enlightenment’ a front, hiding the real Howard who never got to chose his own path. That was the last push Hamlin needed to finally oppose his father and hang up his own shingle, a non-profit firm where he focused on fundraising whilst his associates - often teaming up with Wexler, McGill - did the work.</p><p>“Francesca stuck around. I’ve created the most hostile work environment known to a ‘reasonable woman’. I’m pretty sure she is wearing a wire every day and collecting evidence for a juicy labour law case.”</p><p>“Or maybe she just really likes you.”</p><p>Even after all these years Jimmy was still baffled by the loyalty he’d managed to inspire in people: in his friends and colleagues. “Yeah, right.”</p><p>“Oh!” Kim exclaimed excitedly. “I have to tell you about the Kenya Sunroof incident.”</p><p>“Oh God, is this your way of telling me that you got arrested?”</p><p>“No!...Not in Kenya.”</p><p>Unsure if she was joking or not, Jimmy cried out, “Kim!?”</p><p>Her giggle filled the line and he pulled the handset closer to his ear, blocking out every other sound.</p><p>“Just messing with ya.” After a beat she added, “No cops could ever catch me.” Then let out a playful, devilish little giggle that simultaneously amused and terrified Jimmy. “So, Kenya Sunroof...The boys prefer to sleep in the great outdoors. By the way, camping is just marvelous when you are in your forties.” Getting back on track she continued, “Anyhow, the night before a hippo completely destroyed the tent I was in.”</p><p>“A hippo?” he asked amused and incredulous.</p><p>“Those things are vicious,” Kim passionately countered. “I had to sleep in one of the trucks. The sunroof was broken thanks to Heinrich being Heinrich. I’ve just put a mosquito net over it and enjoyed the breeze. No big deal. Until a giraffe came around early in the morning. Those assholes on guard watched cackling as it peed all over the truck. A lot of it came through the sunroof.” On the other end Jimmy was doing his best not to laugh himself.</p><p>After a few more stories about the antics of her ‘bodyguards’ Jimmy spoke up. “Did you hear about dad’s legit business adventures?”</p><p>“No!?”</p><p>“He’s buying a coupla Cinnabon franchises in Nebraska. Says sugar is the new drug everyone’s hooked on. And it’s legal so…” He left a little pause here and there to let her join in but she stayed unnaturally silent. “He’d sent over the contracts for me to check. I told him there were better franchises out there but he’s adamant about Cinnabon.”</p><p>Voice breaking here and there, Kim quietly uttered her explanation, “He-ah-he used to take me to Runza - it’s a fast food place - he took me there when I was little to--to get away from mom for a while. They had chili and cinnamon rolls. I never cared for the chili part. He teased me for not being a proper Nebraska girl and then let me just eat the cinnamon rolls.”</p><p>“Oh, shit.” Jimmy felt like an idiot for successfully hurting two Wexlers. He quickly deflected to courthouse gossip managing to make Kim giggle with his perfect impression of Suzanne and Judge Rubio.</p><p>Naturally, movies were discussed and there was one title Jimmy was rather curious about. “You’ve seen the new Star Trek?”</p><p>“Oh god. So much for Gene’s peaceful vision of the future.” Was the precursor to a long Kim Wexler rant about the essence of Star Trek, good science fiction and how incompatible these things were with brainless action flicks. Jimmy just cradled the phone with a big grin on his face enjoying it all, stoking the fire here and there with a few jabs. </p><p>When she ran out of things to complain about he asked with a knowing smile. “But it was a good movie, wasn’t it?”</p><p>Begrudgingly she agreed, “Yes.”</p><p>At one point she started checking out of the conversation and Jimmy gently cajoled her into getting in her enormous hotel bed. She really didn’t want to leave her armchair because every step away from there was a step closer to deafening silence. But exhaustion won this fight, her limbs and eyelids like lead, her thoughts muddled. She slipped into the too large bed, grabbed the pillow from the side that she still considered Jimmy’s and clutched it to her chest.</p><p>Twilight painted Albuquerque in hues of orange around Jimmy. He marvelled at the colours he hadn’t seen in a long time, then closed his eyes and started crooning, “Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style some day.”</p><p>His terrible, off-key singing was the most soothing and exquisite thing, wrapping Kim’s whole body in a wonderful cocoon of sweet and happy memories.</p><p>She had fallen asleep at one point, waking just momentarily, his breathing was the only indication he was still on the other end of the line. On instinct she muttered, “I love you, Jimmy.”</p><p>Letting out a shaky breath he murmured back, “I love you too."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, chili and cinnamon rolls are a thing (mainly in Kansas/Midwest). And yes, that means people dipping their cinnamon rolls in chili.😱 Tak for kaffe! *shivers in Danish*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Tin Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the delay. But hey, for your patience I have for you not one but TWO chapters. <span class="small">There won’t be more though.</span></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>March, 2010</h4><p>The time-bomb that was Walter White blew up four months later. With two DEA agents - one of them an ASAC - dead, the DAs office and every law enforcement officer in the city of Albuquerque was out for blood. Before there was even a hint of a case or charges against him Jimmy dialled Ed ‘the disappearer’ just as Kim had instructed.</p><p>The first step was to get a new identity, complete with a fresh new driver’s licence. When he noticed the state on it his heart sank. <em>Oh no.</em> “Nebraska? What’s in Nebraska?”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>Jimmy ran a hand down his jaw, covering his mouth. <em>Shit. Ian Wexler was going to kill him.</em></p><p>
  <br/>
<span class="small">
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQftADqHbvo">Missed the scene from Breaking Bad? Watch it on Youtube!</a>
</span>
</p><p>Just as Jimmy expected, he got a job managing his father-in-law’s Cinnabon in Omaha. However, instead of an earful, all he got was a massive bear hug from the man.</p><p>Before all the shit hit the fan Jimmy had managed to talk Kim into having a few more phonecalls after the one on his birthday and whilst their banter went on like a well-oiled machine he couldn’t help feeling that he was only allowed to talk to Kim - his best friend - and not Kim, his wife. She was going through something, he could hear it in the words she left unsaid. And it was driving him mad how she was slipping back into old habits drawing up the bridge again to the fortress around her heart. Not that he could blame her as he was still clinging on to Saul Goodman to cope.</p><p>It was before their third call when Jimmy had finally made up his mind to just ask her. Right after the ‘hey’s Kim broke the news that their calls were coming to an end as she had to go dark for a few months. She promised to call him on his birthday in November, no matter what. During their brief conversation she sounded incredibly tense, yet insisted that everything was alright. He decided not to press her.</p><p>And now here he was, living in dreary Omaha, working in a Cinnabon in a soulless mall with its artificial lighting and controlled temperature pretending that every day was nice and perfect. This was his life until god knows when. A dull, grey existence.</p><p>Halfway around the world - in a nondescript meeting room as large as HHM’s but devoid of any colours -, sat Kim, alone, with a notepad in front of her. Her pen hovered above the paper, touching it a few times leaving tiny blue dots but no words behind. She stared at the lines until they blurred invisible. Her hand around the pen trembled.</p><p>Xavier - the leader of the mercenaries still working with her - walked in, his tall frame blocking a big chunk of the sunlight as he walked along the long table. He stopped directly above Kim and dropped a bag of frozen peas and a dish towel next to her notepad. She looked up, her eyebrows knitting together. <em>How on earth could he have found a bag of peas in an office building?</em> Just another mystery to add to the man that was Xavier - she didn’t even know if that was his first or last name. Wordlessly, Kim wrapped the peas in the towel and placed it on her right hand. With a hiss she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain from the contact and the cold.</p><p><em>What the hell am I doing?</em> She asked herself but did not bother to take the time to contemplate her actions leading up to this point, instead, she quickly picked up her pen with her left hand - now devoid of her wedding ring - and focused back on the ballpoint.</p><p>The chairs next to Kim were all strewn about lying on their sides. Xavier picked one up, righting it before the forty-something man sat with the sound effects of a much older one: his joints cracking, the pain from the change of position forcing a moan through his thin lips. His sharp brown eyes gave Kim a long, measured look as she stared steadfast at her empty notepad.</p><p>“Thinking about the husband?”</p><p>Kim - taken off guard - immediately gave up the pretence, her eyes snapping up to meet his.</p><p>“This has nothing to...” She started to object but Xavier’s unflinching, pointed look made her trail off with a heavy sigh. The pen slipped from her hand and fell with a thud.</p><p>“We could pick him up. Have him stay in Bloemfontein, help with the local--”</p><p>“No. It’s too dangerous.” Which sounded like a fair argument and yet Kim uttered it with little conviction.</p><p>Xavier went quiet for a few seconds. As the one in charge of security of the whole operation he was well aware of the risks, even more so than Kim. To her relief he didn’t call her bullshit or press her further, just flatly conceded, “Alright.”</p><p>He did however keep his eyes on Kim, making her skin crawl. She knew the technique, used it many times herself with witnesses as a very effective method of getting information out of people without the need for questions. Going on just a few hours of sleep Kim was tired enough to fall for it anyway.</p><p>“I’m not running away,” she blurted out the thought that was clawing in the back of her mind for months.</p><p>“Of course not,” Xavier started his stoic conclusion. “After all, you must know you cannot run away from yourself.”</p><p>Kim bristled at that. <em>Why would she run from herself? What sort of absurd notion was that? People ran from other people.</em></p><p>Unaffected by Kim’s non-verbal disapproval Xavier went on, “It’s okay to take some time to figure out what you want or who you are or whatever it is that’s weighing on you. As long as you know that that’s why you’re here and that’s why you bliksem witnesses.”</p><p><em>Yeah, no.</em> She was here to do a job. This was absolutely, by no means a distraction from trying to understand why on earth she was so reluctant to run back into Jimmy’s arms when that was all she could dream about along with the guilt of knowing what she was putting him through.</p><p>The only colour filtering in to Jimmy’s life was his tape of old Saul Goodman commercials. He yearned to let the persona loose, to ease the pain just a bit, but he could not afford drawing attention to himself.</p><p>Ian was all the meaningful human contact Jimmy had left and they could only manage a few clandestine meetings where both men desperately tried to deal with or ignore the absence of Kim in their lives with little to no success.</p><p>His job became a meagre distraction.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Classic roll</strong>
  </em><br/>
<em>2 cups warm milk (110F)<br/>
4-1/4 eggs<br/>
2/3 cup margarine, melted<br/>
8-1/4 cups bread flour<br/>
2 teaspoons salt<br/>
1 cup white sugar<br/>
1 tablespoon and 2-1/4 teaspoons bread machine yeast</em>
</p><p>The first few weeks of learning the ropes were at least different and somewhat engaging.</p><p>
  <em>The menu includes: classic roll, caramel pecanbon, minibon roll, bonbites, caramel pecan bonbites, center of the roll, caramel pecan center of the roll, cinnaSweeties, cinnabon stix, churro swirl.</em>
</p><p>But Jimmy could only work 32-35 hours a week which had left him with way too much free-time on his hands. He had debated picking up another service/retail job but after sitting on his ass for years, even this much time on his feet was agony. But at least it helped him lose the weight Saul had put on; with a little help from his diet of alcohol and little else.</p><p>In the back of Gene’s mind sat Jimmy McGill screaming, yearning to talk, to charm, to sell, to play. On his best days he managed to cling to hope that soon Jimmy could be back. On his worsts he longed for a cold jail cell to just end this torture.</p><p>The monotony set in.</p><p>
  <em>Wake up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Get ready for work/stare at the ceiling until the afternoon shift.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Go to work.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Make cinnabons. Clean. Make coffee. Serve customers. Bake. Clean.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Go home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Drink.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleep. Or alternatively cry oneself to sleep.</em>
</p><p>Every day felt like he stood in quicksand being slowly swallowed up. And he was not putting up a fight. <em>What was the point?</em></p><p><em>What was the point?</em> Kim asked herself sitting in yet another conference room, this one even drearier than the 15 others she had been in just this month. Across her, Neuer the unenthusiastic chief investigator from Bundeskriminalamt - The Federal Criminal Police Office of Germany - went on and on about proper procedures and chain of evidence. Clearly, he was reluctant to go after ‘Herr Herzog’, the CEO of Madrigal, or even the company itself, often repeating how they were a cornerstone of the German economy.</p><p>This was supposed to be the final 100 metre dash to the finish line. Instead, it seemed another marathon was upon them.</p><p>Halfway through the meeting Kim started fantasising about tearing down Neuer. She was thinking: prostitutes, bribes, maybe digging up some dirt on the man. At the end Xavier arranged for their local law firm contact to try and get another man on the case. They’ve kept Der Spiegel as their fallback.</p><p>For Kim it was back to an endless cycle.</p><p>
  <em>Conference calls.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Meetings and meetings on those meetings.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sleeping on private jets, in cars or in hotel rooms. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Highlighting lines in documents. </em>
</p><p>The following weeks and months many of Madrigal’s men were charged. Chad, Mauritius, Kenya, South Africa, Afghanistan, Spain, Brazil and Peru were all abuzz with arrests and investigations into a trafficking route of illicit drugs between the EU and the US through Africa.</p><p>Winning; it filled the empty spaces within.</p><p>Every day felt like the emptiness grew and the wins shrank until her chest felt hollow and empty.</p><p><em>Tin Man</em>, her mother used to mockingly call Kim.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Save me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You don’t save me, I save me.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>1st November 2010</h4><p>Malls were called ‘bastard developments’ by their very creator for a reason. Intended to be places where people could meet and socialise in safety, they were quickly turned into shiny, cookie-cutter shrines to capitalism all around the world.</p><p>Kim was wandering through the food court her eyes bouncing from restaurant to restaurant. The shitty speakers were blasting Queen’s <em>Save Me</em> from the 80s in a vain effort to spur everyone to spend more.</p><p>🎵<em> It started off so well<br/>
They said we made a perfect pair</em> 🎵</p><p>The mix of familiar smells and sounds yanked Kim on a journey through time, to simpler days when she would take the bus up to Hastings with the one friend she had as a girl to avoid going home as long as she could. The days when she thought that friendships would last forever. Nothing does.</p><p>🎵 <em>The years belie, we lived a lie<br/>
I love you 'til I die</em></p><p><em>Save me, save me, save me<br/>
I can't face this life alone</em> 🎵</p><p>The first thing that hit Kim was the strong scent of cinnamon. It led her by her nose to the small bakery with the big blue sign: ‘Cinnabon’. </p><p>She stood, rooted to the spot, just a few steps away from the counter. <em>What the hell was she doing here?</em> The workers bustling around were just a big light blue blob, their faces blurred. Her vision was blurred. She realised she was crying. <em>Shit.</em></p><p>All the noise of the mall - the chattering, the music - it all faded away, drowned out by her own rapid heartbeat. Her body was shaking as if it was made of jelly. Kim took a deep breath, trying to calm herself to no avail. With great effort she made her legs work again, carrying her to the small corridor nearby leading to the ladies room where she darted into one of the stalls, locked herself in there, closed the toilet’s lid and sat, desperately trying to not feel like she was about to draw her last breath.</p><p>For what felt like hours but was barely two minutes Kim just sat there gasping for air and bawling uncontrollably.</p><p>
  <em>What the hell was she doing here?</em>
</p><p>Her breathing slowed down but now it was her brain kicking into override. The fear of dying was replaced by a different sort of unease, <em>an even worse one.</em> One that started to pop up more frequently lately, but one she had carried with herself her whole life: doubt. Doubt in herself and her choices in life. It was an easy thing to assuage back when she had clear goals and neat plans. When she could convince herself that life was simple. There were rules. She followed the rules. And for the appropriate amount of work put in she would get an equal amount of compensation out. But ten years at HHM made her realise that she believed a lie. It was a pretty tough pill to swallow and she had been having a hard time finding her footing since as things fell apart around her with her stuck right underneath the rubble, suffocating.</p><p>
  <em>Was her whole life just a massive cock up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What was she supposed to do?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why did she become a lawyer?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>No. She loved being a lawyer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did she just go along with Jimmy on his journey, a side-kick with no character development?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which one was the right decision?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why did she put up with HHM for so long?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Maybe she should have let Jimmy in sooner, maybe then…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or maybe she should have just let him go sooner, maybe then he would have moved on.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What the hell was she doing here?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Could she make the right decision at all?</em>
</p><p>With the force of a nearby shock wave, the overwhelming feeling hit her: <em>She’d failed.</em></p><p><em>How was that even possible?</em> Everyone - herself included - believed she had her shit together.</p><p>
  <em>Lies.</em>
</p><p>Well-adjusted people didn’t end up having a mental breakdown in a toilet stall, in a soulless mall in Peru.</p><p>Her fists balled in her lap. Dejection and doubt was quickly squashed by denial. <em>No! She had not failed.</em> She was part of a global case that would change the lives of tens if not hundreds of thousands for the better. But that was it; she was <em>just</em> a part by now. There were several other, capable lawyers with much more appropriate, local knowledge working on this alongside her.</p><p>Still, it was the case of her dreams.</p><p>
  <em>Lies.</em>
</p><p>At least it used to be her dream, the dream of a girl with a head full of movies and a heart full of pain.</p><p>She grew into a vastly different woman from the one she thought she strived to become. Owning a home, settling down, working in a small practice only 30ish hours a week… and married. And happy. And loved.</p><p>But she could get all that back. It was waiting for her.</p><p>
  <em>Lies.</em>
</p><p>She had caused so much pain and had no idea how to fix it.</p><p>
  <em>Another lie.</em>
</p><p>All she would have to do was to tell Jimmy why she had done all this. He would understand. <em>But did she?</em></p><p>
  <em>What the hell was she doing here?</em>
</p><p>The noble reasons she had listed off to him were not a lie. The Juarez Cartel was truly despicable. But if she was honest, the real reason this whole thing had started was much more personal. Lalo Salamanca almost got Jimmy killed. And that snake taunted her about it with a fucking smile on his face.</p><p><em>“Day’s not gonna make a difference.”</em> Lalo proclaimed nonchalant. Then left her there feeling terrified and hopeless. <em>“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Goodman.”</em></p><p>She just couldn’t let that go. Hence when Nacho offered up the opportunity to destroy the man and his family Kim jumped on it.</p><p>Needing some moral support Kim turned to Duncan who wasn’t terribly happy about the whole revenge plot and volunteered to do most of the work instead, having not much to lose. The old social worker also insisted that Kim told Jimmy about it. But that would have meant talking about the real reason. How, after three years, she still hadn’t managed to get over the trauma of that day. How that blood spatter on Jimmy’s shirt haunted her in her dreams.</p><p><em>Lies. Lies and even more lies.</em> They were not a building block for a solid life but they were all she had.</p><p>This wasn’t the first time Kim was hit with this realisation. That happened years ago, after the whole scamming Kevin debacle. To this day she could clearly see herself standing in the middle of her old apartment’s living room, hurt and angry. All the guilt she felt, she projected right at Jimmy. Not that he was innocent, they were both spectacular liars. Difference was that Jimmy never hid it. He always seemed to be bursting at the seams, desperately wishing to come clean to her.</p><p>That one blowout left them married. The moment she offered him the opportunity he started making the effort. With time he told her about Chuck’s last words to him and even admitted to helping Nacho and meeting with Mike. Slowly but surely, he became an open book to her. </p><p>Jimmy talked. And talked and talked. He said it helped, that it made him feel much better.</p><p>Then he started asking questions. And Kim did not have the answers.</p><p>Duncan’s voice echoed through her head, <em>“We all just want to be understood. And Jimmy simply gets you without words, doesn’t he?... Yet he still hurts you sometimes... See, the thing is, other people cannot truly understand you until you understand yourself.”</em></p><p>This was what she ran away from. <em>Honesty.</em></p><p>She never truly faced herself, accustomed to putting others and their needs first to avoid confrontation.</p><p><em>“Your feelings matter, Kim.”</em> That was the last thing the old man said to her before he was killed taking her bravery with him.</p><p>Because in all honesty, the thought scared the shit out of her. Opening up, talking about her emotions with Duncan was one thing but with someone she loved. <em>What if Jimmy would use them against her?</em></p><p>
  <em>No. He’d never do that. She could trust him.</em>
</p><p>Another memory etched in her brain played out in front of her eyes. She saw Jimmy’s dear face, open and honest as he murmured, <em>“I suppose, what really matters most to me is to know you’re happy.”</em></p><p>She reached up to unclasp her necklace holding their two golden rings. After taking off the smaller one she put the necklace back on then just sat rolling her wedding band around between her fingers.</p><p>Justice, it still mattered but Jimmy, he mattered most.</p><p>
  <em>Clarity.</em>
</p><p>Kim stood in front of the long mirror above the row of sinks and looked the woman staring back at her square in the eyes. They smiled in unison. With steady fingers she slid her wedding ring back on her finger.</p><p>Back in the food court Xavier was still eating at their small table, chatting with their informant. Kim gave them a small nod as she sat back down with her cinnamon roll and bottled water. They continued discussing the documents the Madrigal employee could smuggle out.</p><p>Hours later in the dark, empty parking lot of a mall in Omaha, Gene sat in his car, still in a trance, his tears drying. In his hand, clutched, the napkin with the note to order Jeff the taxi driver’s death. <em>He was still weak.</em></p><p>A knock on his driver’s side window startled him, making him jump in his seat. His heart sped up making his whole body throb along with his pulse as he turned to look towards the noise. Then he blinked. And blinked again, and again. <em>No. This cannot be.</em></p><p>He scrambled out of the car, his hand slipping on the handle a few times before he managed to open his door. Then he just froze, staring.</p><p>The form standing before him was Kim, hair in a braid, wearing khaki cargo pants and a coat that still had all the tags hanging from one of its buttons. Jimmy had imagined her standing just like this so many times: within arms reach. But every single time he tried to close the gap before she always drifted further, slowly fading away.</p><p>“Enjoying the good life?” Kim’s words sounded casual, playful even. The tears running down her cheeks gave away her real feelings. Her hands trembled by her side afraid that if she were to reach out he would shatter. Her eyes freely roamed his features, drinking Jimmy in. There was much more white in his sideburns now and it was creeping into his hair. She yearned to relearn him. To know every inch of him again; his body more familiar than her own.</p><p>A strangled, guttural sound left Jimmy’s lips. His hand flew to his mouth as he started crying tears of joy. Without preamble they crashed into each other frantically grasping, squeezing, holding on tight, gasping and breathing hard. Their brains too overwhelmed to order letters into words, let alone sentences.</p><p>Jimmy pulled back a little to frame Kim’s face with his hands. He noted how she felt more boney and looked much older. <em>Still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.</em></p><p>Kim smiled, a proper grin showing her teeth and he was lost. For the first time in almost three years a genuine laugh bubbled out of him. It sounded weird, foreign, rusty. And then just because he could he hugged her again, his arms around her waist lifting her from the ground a bit making her giggle.</p><p>Still not believing his eyes Jimmy continued touching and caressing her warm skin with an open expression of awe and admiration.</p><p>Hesitantly, he asked the burning question, his smile faltering just slightly. “Are you--are you staying?”</p><p>Kim tried to answer but couldn’t push even the smallest word past the lump in her throat so she just nodded feverishly with a grin on her face.</p><p>An idea popped into Kim’s head and her hands were immediately grasping at her necklace having a hard time opening the tiny clasp as they still trembled from all the feelings cursing through her veins. Jimmy stood mesmerised by her actions his breath catching with a startled gasp the moment he realised what was happening. Kim had to clasp his left hand in hers and pull it from her waist to be able to slide his ring back on his finger. Once it was on she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss against the warm metal and his skin. His palm cupped her face, thumb sliding through the wetness on her cheek. A watery chuckle bubbled out of Jimmy, and Kim soon found herself pressed against him again. The pressure of the last years leaving their bodies in the teardrops freely flowing from their smiling eyes.</p><p>Sobering a little Jimmy pulled back, arms still around Kim, and asked, “So...what now?”</p><p>“Spent my layover in Dallas finagling with the New Mexico AG. Got us a nice deal. In exchange for my co-operation against Mesa Verde he agreed to drop your charges.”</p><p>Not that there were many of those and probably most of them would not have stuck anyhow. Saul Goodman was excellent at skirting with the law just so. His highly illegal acts were virtually impossible to prove beyond a reasonable doubt.</p><p>Still, Jimmy snorted in amusement and amazement at the brilliance of his wife. Then his brain caught up.</p><p>“Mesa Verde?”</p><p>“Whilst we were looking into Vicente--Gus we’ve found that Kevin’s got a taste for domestic money laundering.”</p><p>“Huh. I’ve always known he was hiding something but was expecting more of a high heels, thongs and dresses kind of revelation.”</p><p>Kim groaned, her forehead resting against his clavicle. “Oh, Jesus Jimmy! Thanks for that image!”</p><p>Her ensuing giggle reverberated in his chest, filling the hollowed out spaces with bright colours.</p><p>Hit with a wave of affection and admiration Jimmy’s playful, joking mood shifted. He started pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach. First in her hair, the next landed on her hairline, then temple, cheek.</p><p>Warmth flood through Kim’s body as she sighed, trembling with anticipation. When their lips finally met her knees nearly gave out. <em>Must be the jet lag.</em></p><p>With her eyes still closed, and mouths hovering a breath apart, panting, Kim mused, “Mmm, I’ve never kissed someone with a moustache before.”</p><p>Jimmy’s bright smile was back. He leaned back just a fraction. “You like it? Very Bo ‘the Bandit’, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Kim narrowed her eyes at the patch of hair under his nose. “More like Big Enos.”</p><p>“Hey!” he exclaimed, displeased at being recast as the big, fat Texan instead of Burt Reynolds. “So, what’s your verdict?”</p><p>“May need to do a bit more discovery.”</p><p>Already leaning in for another kiss he purred, “10-4, Snowman.”</p><p>Kim huffed in amusement had half a mind to protest her allocated role but the diligent attorney that she was she immediately got to work, doing a very thorough discovery. His moustache hair tickled as their lips met again and again, unhurried. <em>Interesting.</em></p><p>Leaving a trail of small kisses from his mouth to his ear, Kim whispered, “Take me home before smokey takes us in for indecent exposure.”</p><p>Jimmy chuckled pressing one final kiss on her forehead, framing her face in his hands just staring down at her for a moment before he reluctantly let her go so she could get in his car. His eyes followed her the whole time. Kim caught his gaze halfway to the door, a dreamy smile blooming on her lips.</p><p>Despite Kim’s worst fears, it seemed, that their love hasn’t lost a step; their hearts joined like two old friends effortlessly slipping back into the comfort of familiarity. It was just as if someone pushed pause three years ago on the remote control of their lives and now pressed play again; they’ve picked up exactly where they’d left off. </p><p>Back in Gene’s apartment their bodies joined again as well, slow, reverent. That was the easy part.</p><p>As they laid together afterwards, holding on tight - a little bit desperate - Kim took the hard steps and let her heart start to finally speak. In the darkness, warmed by Jimmy’s naked skin she explained why she’d done what she did instead of expecting him to just get it. It was new, she was unpractised at it and fumbled a few times but Jimmy was there to help her along. And he understood. He finally, truly did.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, just like J.P. Morgan Chase, Citigroup and many other banks - in the end - Mesa Verde got a mere slap on the wrist for their involvement in the drug trade. However, their admission of guilt was enough to open them up for lawsuits in the name of all the families affected by Gus’ and other operations.</p><p>The class action was fought in the Albuquerque courthouse. The small battles were mostly attended by Rich Schweikhart and a few senior S&amp;C associates on one side of the aisle and Kim and Jimmy on the other.</p><p>During their latest Motion day, as a last desperate move Rich was making his final argument ending with, “The fact of the matter is, these are private emails.”</p><p>Kim delivered her level-headed counter, ready to go another round or two, “As you know, your honour, the emails were part of the criminal case against Mr Wachtell---”</p><p>Judge Rubio - pressed on time - raised his hand to stop her. “Ms. McGill, I’ve heard enough, thank you. Your motion is granted.”</p><p>Sitting back down Kim shared a little, discreet low-five underneath the counsel table with the other McGill from their new firm: McGill &amp; McGill.</p><p>Not five minutes later they were in room 201 - their old little hideaway in the courthouse - joining their associates, a few attorneys from Dāna and Howard for a quick catch-up and lunch before they drove home to Cedar Crest in Kim’s Montero.</p><p>They took their horses up to the mountains to their favourite viewpoint overlooking Albuquerque and sat shoulder-to-shoulder on a boulder in silence until Kim quietly spoke.</p><p>“My mother used to call me Tin Man.”</p><p>“Ironic,” Jimmy scoffed and Kim’s eyebrows drew together. He slid an arm around her as he asked, “You’ve ever read the books?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>From the two of them Jimmy was more of a reader, Kim preferred movies.</p><p>“The very woman who taught you how your heart, your emotions were insignificant, compared you to a character who used to be an ordinary man in love with a girl until one day the Wicked Witch of the East enchanted his axe to prevent him from marrying his sweetheart. The axe chopped off his limbs one-by-one. Each time a tin smith replaced them with a prosthetic made of tin, until nothing was left of him but tin.”</p><p>Kim leaned more into his embrace. Whilst her eyes were glassy with unshed tears she was smiling. Jimmy’s low, scratchy voice caressed her mind as he added, “Besides. He may not have had a heart but he was still the most tender and emotional of Dorothy’s companions.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is it, <strong>the end.</strong> If you got this far, wow, thank you so much for reading! And special thanks to all of you out there who've commented! 🤗<br/><span class="small">This was my last fic where I've attempted to finish BCS. This is just too much 😅 Once I'll have the time again I'll just write oneshots and such</span><br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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